When you hear a great song, you can think of where you were when you first heard it, the sounds, the smells. It takes the emotions of a moment and holds it for years to come. It transcends time. A great song has all the key elements — melody; emotion; a strong statement that becomes part of the lexicon; and great production. Think of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” by Queen. That song had everything — different melodies, opera, R&B, rock — and it explored all of those different genres in an authentic way, where it felt natural.

When I’m writing a song that I know is going to work, it’s a feeling of euphoria. It’s how a basketball player must feel when he starts hitting every shot, when you’re in that zone. As soon as you start, you get that magic feeling, an extra feeling. Songs like that come out in five minutes; if I work on them more than, say, 20 minutes, they’re probably not going to work.

Led Zeppelin, ‘Black Dog’

A dog meandering the grounds outside Zeppelin’s studio in rural England inspired the title, but the subject was honey-dripping sex. "Things like 'Black Dog' are blatant let’s-do-it-in-the-bath-type things," Plant said, "but they make their point."

Al Green, ‘Tired of Being Alone’

After a show in Detroit, Green woke up before dawn the next day at a motel in rural Michigan with a song forming in his mind. Half an hour later, he had "Tired of Being Alone." But Mitchell wasn’t much interested in Green's own material. "I was toting my song around in my pocket for days on end, saying, 'Hey, I got a song,'" Green said. "Finally, at the end of the session, I said, 'Well, I still got a song.'"

The Clash, ‘Train in Vain’

"Train In Vain" was the hidden track at the end of the Clash's London Calling, unlisted on the sleeve or on the label. It didn’t even have a proper title; fans initially assumed it was called "Stand by Me," after the chorus. But it became a surprise hit in America, thanks to its hard-charging drums and weary vocals from guitarist Jones, who wrote the bitter love song in his grandmother’s flat.

The Zombies, ‘She’s Not There’

With Colin Blunstone’s gauzy vocals and Argent’s scampering piano, "She’s Not There" was one of the British Invasion’s jazziest singles. Argent was a fan of Elvis and the Beatles, but also Miles Davis, who became a subconscious influence. "When I wrote and played 'She’s Not There,' the last thing on my mind was jazz or Miles," says Argent, "but those things filtered through."

Eminem feat. Dido, ‘Stan’

"Stan" was Eminem’s scariest song, because for once the horror seemed real. Anchored by a sample from Dido’s "Thank You" (which became a hit itself), it followed an obsessed fan who acts out Em's fantasies. "He’s crazy for real, and he thinks I’m crazy, but I try to help him at the end of the song," said Eminem. "It kinda shows the real side of me."

The Beatles, ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’

"'Can’t Buy Me Love' is my attempt to write [in] a bluesy mode," McCartney said. He wrote it while the band was doing concerts in Paris for 18 days straight, two or three shows a day. The single was released a few months later, at the height of Beatlemania. When it hit Number One, the band occupied all five top positions on the American charts.

Barrett Strong, ‘Money (That’s What I Want)’

The sessions lasted more than 40 takes and several days, but Gordy didn’t care: It was the first song cut in his Hitsville USA studio, and there were no bills to pay. With a howling vocal over a live band, this was gutbucket R&B, far more raw than the Motown hits that followed. But when it became Gordy’s first hit, it provided the money to pay for them.

Run-DMC, ‘Walk This Way’

Run-DMC pioneered the use of rock guitar in hip-hop with the tracks "Rock Box" and "King of Rock." But this Aerosmith cover — with help from Tyler and Perry — was a crossover smash, establishing a blueprint for scores of metal-rap mash-ups. For Run, though, it was just another day rhyming. "I made that record because I used to rap over it when I was 12," he told Rolling Stone.

Pavement, ‘Summer Babe (Winter Version)’

Malkmus and Kannberg cut this tender pop tune about a summer crush in the garage studio of their hippie drummer, Gary Young. "We didn’t know how to record," Malkmus confessed. "We used reverb on the drums — the cheapest, worst reverb ever." Malkmus said he was trying to sound like Lou Reed, singing about "sad boy stuff."

Howlin’ Wolf, ‘Smokestack Lightning’

This was based on Wolf’s "Crying at Daybreak," recorded years earlier and itself modeled on Charley Patton’s "Moon Going Down." The inspiration, said Wolf, was watching trains cut through the night: "We used to sit out in the country and see the trains go by, watch the sparks come out of the smokestack. That was smokestack lightning."

Elvis Costello and the Attractions, ‘(What’s So Funny About) Peace, Love and Understanding’

Writer: Nick LoweProducer: LoweReleased: Jan. '79, ColumbiaNon-single

"What’s So Funny" was written by Lowe, Costello’s pal and producer. The original, by Lowe’s country-rock band Brinsley Schwartz, was mellow and cute, but Costello snarls the song intensely enough to make the title question seem brand-new, with thundering drums and droning piano. It’s like Abba playing punk rock.

Blondie, ‘Call Me’

The main reason Blondie recorded "Call Me" for the Richard Gere flick American Gigolo was to work with their hero, Euro-disco producer Moroder. "He was the king of disco," Harry said. "And we were still the anti-establishment invaders." Moroder’s first choice for a vocalist was Stevie Nicks, but Harry’s New Wave edge helped make the song the biggest seller of 1980.

Joni Mitchell, ‘Help Me’

"I had attempted to play my music with rock & roll players," Mitchell said in 1979. "They’d laugh, 'Aww, isn’t that cute? She’s trying to tell us how to play.'" It took a jazz group — Tom Scott’s L.A. Express — to realize her biggest hit, a swooning confession of love trouble complete with swirling sax break. One rocker, Prince, loved the song so much he quoted it on "The Ballad of Dorothy Parker."

Stevie Wonder, ‘You Are the Sunshine of My Life’

Wonder originally wrote and recorded "Sunshine" while he was finishing his 1972 LP Music of My Mind, but he decided to hang on to it until his next album, Talking Book. He had written the song for future wife Syreeta Wright, who had met Wonder at the Motown offices, where she was a secretary. The cut was Talking Book’s second Number One hit, following "Superstition."

The White Stripes, ‘Seven Nation Army’

Writer: Jack WhiteProducer: WhiteReleased: April '03, V2/Third Man

Jack White used an effects pedal to make his guitar sound like a bass for this howling anthem about rage and paranoia. The result was the greatest riff of the 2000s and a massive, career-changing hit that has been covered by everyone from Metallica to the University of South Alabama marching band. As for the title, "That’s what I called the Salvation Army when I was a kid," White told Rolling Stone.

Bill Withers, ‘Ain’t No Sunshine’

When the 31-year-old Withers recorded "Sunshine," he was still working at a factory making toilet seats for 747s. He intended to write more lyrics for the part where he repeats the phrase "I know" 26 times, but the other musicians told him to leave it.

The Dixie Cups, ‘Chapel of Love’

Spector took two cracks at recording "Chapel," but the Ronettes and Crystals left him flat. Leiber and Stoller took it to the novice Dixie Cups; the hopeful harmonies were just what the nuptial ditty called for.

The Cure, ‘Pictures of You’

"Most love songs are just calculated attempts at commercial exploitation — they’re not anything to do with love as I understand it," said Cure leader Smith. After the relatively cheerful pop songs of Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, he wanted to write the Cure’s heaviest songs yet. With this epic of cascading synths and broken dreams, he succeeded.

David Bowie, ‘Ziggy Stardust’

"I wasn’t at all surprised 'Ziggy Stardust' made my career," Bowie told Rolling Stone. "I packaged a totally credible plastic rock star." This glam power ballad told the story of his most famous alter ego over Mick Ronson’s flash guitars. Bowie and Ziggy became so inextricably linked that Bowie’s over-the-top manager, Tony Defries, demanded that all his employees get Ziggy haircuts.

The Staple Singers, I’ll Take You There

It was a good day’s work at Stax in 1971 when the Staples cut both "Respect Yourself" and "I’ll Take You There." The latter — a funk vamp promising heavenly or sexual devotion, depending on your perspective — was "written on the spot," said bassist David Hood. "We always tried to do material that was inspirational," said Roebuck "Pop" Staples, "in addition to whatever else it was."

Bruce Springsteen, ‘Born in the U.S.A.’

Before it became the centerpiece of Springsteen’s biggest album, "U.S.A." was an acoustic protest song meant for Nebraska. But when Springsteen revived it with the E Street Band, Roy Bittan came up with a huge synth riff, and Max Weinberg hammered out a beat like he was using M-80s for drumsticks. "We played it two times, and our second take is the record," Springsteen said.

Jefferson Airplane, ‘Somebody to Love’

"Somebody" was about "doubt and disillusionment," according to Darby Slick, who wrote it in the Great Society. His sister-in-law Grace brought the song to the Airplane, whose hard-edged rendition became one of the S.F. scene’s first hits. The Airplane made buttons that read jefferson airplane loves you; Great Society countered with ones that said the great society really doesn’t like you much at all.

The Beatles, ‘Something’

Harrison wrote “Something” near the end of the White Album sessions (one placeholder lyric: "Something in the way she moves/Attracts me like a cauliflower"). It was too late to squeeze it onto the disc, so he gave it to Joe Cocker. The Beatles cut a new version the next year with a string section, which would become a standard recorded by everyone from Frank Sinatra to Ray Charles.

Chuck Berry, ‘Sweet Little Sixteen’

"Sixteen" celebrated kids, America, and the power of rock & roll — an ode to an underage rock fan in high-heeled shoes that included a roll call of U.S. cities. The Beach Boys fitted the song with new words and called it "Surfin’ U.S.A."; Berry threatened to sue and won a writing credit.

The Beach Boys, ‘Sloop John B’

Wilson got turned onto the Bahamian folk song "The Wreck of the John B." by Al Jardine. For the Boys' version, Wilson added elaborate vocals and Billy Strange's 12-string-guitar part. He also changed "This is the worst trip since I’ve been born" to ". . . I’ve ever been on" — a wink to acid culture.

George Jones, ‘He Stopped Loving Her Today’

Dogged by alcohol problems, debt and a messy divorce, former country star Jones was set for a comeback after he left rehab in 1980. So he recorded one of his great heartbreak ballads, a tune about a man whose devotion ends with his death. Jones' nuanced performance was a hit on the country charts and won him a Grammy.

The Modern Lovers, ‘Roadrunner’

Boston native Richman was obsessed with the Velvet Underground; when he started his own band, he rewrote the Velvets' "Sister Ray" into an ecstatic two-chord tribute to cruising down the highway with the radio on. This 1972 recording (featuring future members of Talking Heads and the Cars) wasn’t released for more than three years – whereupon English punks fell in love with it.

Kanye West, ‘Jesus Walks’

"If I talk about God, my record won’t get played," West rapped on "Jesus Walks," a gospel testimonial that samples the ARC Choir, a Harlem group composed of recovering drug addicts. Kanye was wrong: The song, in which the colossally cocky West admits that he needs Jesus "like Kathie Lee needs Regis," blew up on the charts, making it the rare pop hit to name-check the Messiah.

U2, ‘Sunday Bloody Sunday’

This rallying cry set to a military beat was inspired by two Sunday massacres in the ongoing civil war between Irish Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland. The band changed the song’s opening line from "Don’t talk to me about the rights of the IRA" to "I can’t believe the news today" out of fear that its plea for peace would be misconstrued.

New York Dolls, ‘Personality Crisis’

No song better captured the New York Dolls' glammed-out R&B than "Personality Crisis," the opening track on the group’s debut. Produced by Todd Rundgren during an eight-day session, "Crisis" was the trashy sound of a meltdown ("Frustration and heartache is what you got"); soon after, the Dolls fell victim to one themselves and dissolved amid a haze of drugs.

Archie Bell and The Drells, ‘Tighten Up’

After Bell got his draft notice in May '67, he wanted to record with his group, the Drells, before he got shipped off to Vietnam. He pulled out "Tighten Up," one of the group’s old demos. Bell got shot in the leg in Vietnam; the record went to Number One while he was in a military hospital, trying to convince people the song on the radio was his.

Appears on: Tightening It Up: The Best of Archie Bell and the Drells (Rhino)

The Ronettes, ‘Walking in the Rain’

Just as the first wave of British Invasion bands threatened to overtake Spector at the top of the pop charts, the producer responded with "Walking in the Rain." The dreamy ballad features Veronica "Ronnie" Bennett singing lead. She nailed the vocal on the first take — unheard of in Spector’s world. Bennett and Spector were married two years later.

Randy Newman, ‘Sail Away’

Singers from Ray Charles to Etta James covered this portrait of America from the perspective of a slave trader. As usual for Newman, it combines lush melody with painful satire. "One thing with my music," he said, "you can’t sit and eat potato chips, and have it on in the background at a party."

The Crystals, ‘He’s A Rebel’

The Crystals were from Brooklyn, but Spector was in Los Angeles to record "He’s a Rebel." So he recorded this celebration of teenage bad boys with Darlene Love and the Blossoms under the Crystals name. A sobering footnote: Spector was just 21 years old.

Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, ‘Ooo Baby Baby’

Robinson called this ballad his "national anthem," noting, "Wherever we go, it’s the one song that everybody asks for." "Baby" has what may be his most delicate and wounded vocal. When Robinson sighs the line "I’m crying," it’s a reminder that no matter how many vocalists keep covering his songs, nobody sings Smokey like Smokey.

Stevie Wonder, ‘Higher Ground’

Wonder wrote, produced and played every instrument on "Higher Ground," which was recorded just before he was involved in a near-fatal car accident in August '73 — no, he wasn’t driving — that left him in a coma. Early in Wonder’s recovery, his road manager tried to revive him by singing the melody of "Ground" into the singer’s ear; Wonder responded by moving his fingers with the music.

Jeff Buckley, ‘Hallelujah’

During his famed early gigs at the New York club Sin-é, Buckley used to break hearts with his version of this Cohen prayer. Buckley called it a homage to "the hallelujah of the orgasm" and had misgivings about his sensuous rendition: "I hope Leonard doesn’t hear it." On his posthumous live album Mystery White Boy, Buckley turns "Hallelujah" into a medley with the Smiths' "I Know It’s Over."

The Dells, ‘Oh, What A Night’

Pioneering Chicago R&B quintet the Dells scored a regional hit with this song in 1956. But bass vocalist Chuck Barksdale wasn’t on the record, so 13 years later, he persuaded the group to remake "Night" — and included his own opening monologue, along with a more sumptuous groove, an eerie guitar stab and heart-stopping strings. "I think a little ego got involved there," he said.

The Who, ‘I Can See For Miles’

"I sat down and made it good from the beginning," Townshend said of the Who’s most volcanic studio single in his first Rolling Stone interview. Written in 1966, "Miles" was painstakingly built in London and L.A. on rare days off from touring in the summer of '67, with Townshend piling on multiple guitars to replicate his onstage amp howl. That fury powered the song into the U.S. Top 10.

The Troggs, ‘Wild Thing’

When Taylor demo’d this three-chord monster in 1965, he didn’t take it too seriously: "I was on the floor laughing when I was through." But after a new U.K. band called the Troggs got hold of it, "Wild Thing" became a bar-band standard. Said Taylor, "It’s still inspired, even in its own dumbness."

Bob Dylan, ‘Mississippi’

Dylan first recorded "Mississippi" for 1997’s Time Out of Mind, but he hated producer Daniel Lanois’ busy arrangement. This version, produced pseudonymously by Dylan, has a sturdy, straightforward groove. "Polyrhythm doesn’t work for knifelike lyrics about majesty and heroism," he said.

Blondie, ‘Heart of Glass’

Blondie singer Harry and guitarist Stein, her boyfriend, wrote the song as "Once I Had a Love" in their dingy New York apartment; keyboardist Jimmy Destri provided the synthesizer hook. The result brought punk and disco together on the dance floor. "Chris always wanted to do disco," Destri said. Not all of their rock fans agreed. "We used to do 'Heart of Glass' to upset people," he added.

AC/DC, ‘Highway to Hell’

"I’ve been on the road for 13 years," AC/DC singer Scott said in 1978. "Planes, hotels, groupies, booze . . . they all scrape something from you." Pumped up by producer "Mutt" Lange, "Highway" is the last will and testament of Scott: When he yells, "Don’t stop me," right before Angus Young’s guitar solo, it’s clear that no one could – he drank himself to death in 1980.

Radiohead, ‘Paranoid Android’

"'Paranoid Android' is about the dullest fucking people on Earth," said singer Yorke, referring to lyrics such as "Squealing Gucci little piggy," about a creepy coked-out woman he once spied at an L.A. bar. The sound was just as unnerving: a shape-shifting three-part prog-rock suite. Spooky fact: It was recorded in actress Jane Seymour’s 15th-century mansion, a house that Yorke was convinced was haunted.

Mott the Hoople, ‘All the Young Dudes’

U.K. hard-rock band Hoople had already passed up "Suffragette City," so they didn’t say no when Bowie offered to let them record "Dudes," the ultimate glam-rock hymn. "I’m thinking, 'He wants to give us that?'" said drummer Dale Griffin. "'He must be crazy!'" Ian Hunter made it anthemic, contrary to the writer’s apocalyptic intent. "[It’s] about the news," Bowie told RS. "It’s no hymn to the youth."

Bobby Darin, ‘Mack the Knife’

Darin first hit in 1958 with the rock & roll bathtub classic "Splish Splash." But he changed his image with this hepcat version of a morbid tale from Weill’s Threepenny Opera, which dates back to 1928. Darin came on as a finger-snapping sophisticate at home in the cocktail lounge, scatting over a jazzy groove; it was easy to forget he was singing about a bloodthirsty Berlin gangster.

The Drifters, ‘Money Honey’

The Drifters were a tough R&B group led by the great soul singer Clyde McPhatter. After McPhatter got drafted in 1954, the Drifters enjoyed pop success with a totally different lineup. Sadly, McPhatter drank himself to death in 1972, before reaching 40.

Black Sabbath, ‘Paranoid’

After Sabbath’s first U.S. tour, Iommi was at Regent Studios in London trying to write one more song for their next album. "I started fiddling about on the guitar and came up with this riff," he said. "When the others came back [from lunch], we recorded it on the spot."

Aretha Franklin, ‘Chain of Fools’

The second of four hits from 1968’s Lady Soul, this kissoff was written by Covay as a straight blues about field hands in the South. Covay reworked the lyrics for Franklin; producer Wexler cooked up the propulsive stomp. When songwriter Ellie Greenwich heard the track in Wexler’s office, she suggested an extra vocal-harmony part, which Wexler got her to sing on the final master.

Sugarhill Gang, ‘Rapper’s Delight’

Master Gee, Wonder Mike and Big Bank Hank were a pure studio creation, a trio of unknown MCs recruited by Sugar Hill’s Sylvia Robinson to make rap’s first radio hit. Based on a sample of Chic’s "Good Times," the track — with raps about bad food instead of boasting — kept going hip-hop, hippity-to-the-hop for 15 minutes.